Tradition II: Talent
by Ael L. Bolt
Summary: Sequel to Tradition. The Marauders Neo cause chaos and mayhem for one Professor Snape. [AN: Hope this answers your questions regarding Whitestripe's sudden height advantage! ]


Tradition II: Talent  
  
By Ael L. Bolt  
  
~~~~~~  
  
"Headmaster, this has gone far enough!"  
  
Severus Snape was practically foaming at the mouth as he furiously paced the room. "These so-called 'Second Marauders' are vandalizing school property and insulting the faculty! I demand that you immediately expel the students responsible - you KNOW who they are!"  
  
Dumbledore peered over the rims of his glasses, the very gaze quieting the enraged Potions master in his tracks. "I find no one guilty of such crimes, Severus. Merely harmless pranks."  
  
"At least let me take points from Gryffindor, Albus! That Potter and his sidekicks absolutely HAVE to be behind all this!" Snape was on the verge of pleading.  
  
"Caretaker Filch is still searching for clues of the culprits," Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't heard him. "No evidence has been found to prove any identities yet. In the meantime, I recommend you go back to the dungeons and prepare for your next class."  
  
Snape glared furiously at the elderly wizard, then spun on his heel and stormed out. Dumbledore stared after him long after the door swung shut until he heard the guard gargoyle settle into place. He turned his gaze on an empty patch of air next to a bookshelf. "I believe it is safe now, young 'Whitestripe'."  
  
With the shimmer characteristic of an Invisibility Cloak, a tall young man appeared, grinning sheepishly. "Still can't fool you, can I?" the younger wizard said, folding a silvery cloak over his arm. He reached out to stroke the majestic phoenix on a nearby perch. Fawkes trilled softly and leaned into the caress as the wizard's fingers found a sensitive spot.  
  
"You know that Severus is right," Dumbledore said, not quite scolding. "You and your friends were responsible for the rather intriguing artwork and signature in the Great Hall last week, were you not?"  
  
"Yes sir," Whitestripe said, not showing embarassment. "The paint was easily removed, and just good for a laugh. You said it yourself, sir, laughter is important in these troubled times we live in."  
  
"Indeed I did." Dumbledore looked amused now. "That is why you are not being expelled, nor are you going to be punished for your actions. Although I do believe you have a Transfiguration essay to complete in Gryffindor Tower," he added.  
  
Whitestripe smiled. "Yes, sir. Good night."  
  
"Good night, Whitestripe."  
  
~~~~~~  
  
That night, a small housecat made its way into the Slytherin common room with the aid of a certain white tiger. The cat glanced around quickly before it was replaced by a young woman, wand in hand.  
  
The white tiger stalked into the room and became the tall boy again. "Right," he whispered, soft baritone just barely reaching her ears. "C'mere Softpaws."  
  
Softpaws - previously the housecat - stepped onto his cupped hands and maintained her balance as Whitestripe boosted her to stand on his shoulders. Behind the pair, a reddish bull clopped into the room and promptly became another young wizard for fear his hooves would give him away. He glared up at Softpaws and muttered to Whitestripe, "It's not fair that you had such a huge growth spurt. I was supposed to be the tall one in this trio!"  
  
Whitestripe grinned. "Blame your mom, Trigger. She always did feed me too much. Then again, I blame my previous scrawniness on the muggles. Malnourishment is not my friend at all."  
  
Meanwhile, Softpaws was steadfastly ignoring the whispered conversation and was doggedly plugging Dungbombs and Filibuster Fireworks into all the cracks in the ceiling of the common room. She jammed the last firework in a particularly thick crack and transformed into a cat, leaping soundlessly off of Whitestripe's shoulders. She hit the ground and changed back, smiling grimly. "You sure this isn't dangerous?"  
  
"Positive," Trigger assured her. "My brothers, Dumb and Dumber, do this all the time to Perfect Prefect. His hair may be singed, but there's no harm done in the end. Just a really bad smell."  
  
Whitestripe pulled out a box, smirking. "And don't forget my special secret weapon," he added. "Can't forget to add a dose of irony to the slimy Slytherin fate." He opened the box, and a tangled, slippery mass of something crawled out. A few sharp commands barked out, and the knot dispersed to various hidey-holes in the room. Whitestripe tapped the box and it vanished in a puff of smoke. "Well, shall we add our personal touch to our dear Potions Master's room?"  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Severus Snape awoke the next morning to find his room decorated in red and gold, from top to bottom. An enchanted toy lion was batting at the Slytherin Head of House's feet, and he kicked it off his bed with a shout. The plushie growled at him and scratched the expensive polished wood door as it ran out.  
  
Snape scowled at the change in color, which was nearly blinding in its intensity. He opened the door which led to the Slytherin common room, and immediately stopped to survey the chaos.  
  
Students were everywhere, running frantically from rapidly-soaring fireworks and ice snakes. A deep-set stench penetrated every corner of the room, and great clouds of green gas streamed from the stone ceiling. The stone wall, which was the entryway and exit from the common room, was stuck shut with some kind of green goo, and red and gold letters were scrawled across the door.  
  
WE CAN GET INTO ANYPLACE, ANYWHERE, ANYTIME. YOUR DAYS ARE NUMBERED.  
  
HAVE A NICE DAY!  
  
The note was signed THE MARAUDERS NEO: WHITESTRIPE, TRIGGER, and SOFTPAWS.  
  
Snape blinked, and glanced at his door again. A piece of parchment was nailed to it, and he tore it off the ruined wood. It read, "Dearest Greasy Git, we hope you've enjoyed our little demonstration. You won't be able to get out until you get rid of the password-protected gak on the wall. We leave you to deduct the password yourself."  
  
~~~~~~  
  
The Great Hall was treated to a spectacle never seen before. Shortly after the students had sat down to lunch, the entire missing Slytherin House scrambled through the doors, pursued by a million slippery ice snakes. Professor Snape slammed the doors shut, fuming at the inconvenience. He abruptly realized he had led his students to the Great Hall, and flushed a deep red as he realized the entire school could see the chaos - and his newly-dyed golden hair. He glared at the other Houses, and his gaze fell on three individuals. "Potter! Weasley! Granger! How DARE you-"  
  
Harry blinked at the Potions Master. "Sir? Whatever could you be blaming ME for?"  
  
"You! You're the one responsible for this!" Snape jabbed a finger into the Gryffindor's chest. "You and your cohorts sabotaged the Slytherin dormitories last night! Confess!"  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. "I don't even know where the Slytherin dormitories are, let alone how to sabotage them." He smirked. "Nice 'do, by the way."  
  
Snape stalked out of the Hall, leaving a troupe of embarassed Slytherins and amused professors behind. "Bloody Gryffindors," he growled under his breath. "Can't live with them, can't shoot them. 'Gryffindors rule, Slytherins drool' indeed. If I find that as a password again, I'm resigning."  
  
End! 


End file.
